“ He begins with a scalpel of the type we use in autopsies,” interjected J.T. “The scalpel cuts also indicate a tendency toward more depth on the left side. Then he followed with a bone cutter, a small but powerful circular saw of the sort we use in the autopsy room every day.”
“ Wouldn't that… don't those things make a hell of a noise?”
J.T. nodded. “That they do, particularly when hitting bone.”
“ The final result of the madman's bone saw, ladies and gentlemen,” Jessica said, “was to create an incision going across the forehead above the eyes, thus removing the brow and bone covering the frontal lobe. Once exposed in this manner, well, it becomes relatively easy to reach into the cavity and pluck out the still-attached brain with forceps.”
J.T. added, “And since our man is not interested in any other organ or any other body part, time itself apparently- or hunger for his object-is of the essence for him. Get into the cranial cavity, get the brain, eat it or pack it away, and get rid of the body. In and out.”
“ This frontal assault on the victim is a medical procedure,” said Jessica, pushing back a strand of hair. “One that allows him to gain access to the entire brain in a relatively short period of time.”
“ Just reach in and remove the brain,” commented someone seated in the front row. “You suppose he takes time to weigh it and bag it like you guys in the lab do?”
“ This identical incision is done in autopsies, yes,” said Jessica. “But we always put the brain back-at least most of it.”
Again the audience contemplated the slide along with this information. A collective, quiet gasp went about the room. “Get that slide turned off,” Santiva sent out the order. The female civilian aide manning the projector responded by hitting the wrong button, going back two slides to the original slide, showing Anna Gleason's horrendous wound in profile view. Then it ran to Gleason's frontal view, and again Jessica saw the flaw in the screen, a tear, she thought, at exactly or near the same spot, buried in the shadow of the dark cavity. Then the slide disappeared and the lights went up, and the screen wall appeared fine. It must have been something on the print slide, she concluded.
Eriq thanked Jessica and J.T. for their “invaluable input,” which gave rise to a feeling of hives in Jessica. She knew they had nothing.
“ Any additional photos of the two crime scenes or autopsy information, contact the two jurisdictions, or come by our ready room located down the hall from here.”
A questioning hand slowly snaked up. “Agent Quinton?” asked Santiva. “What is it?”
“ Has VICAP been searched for similar crimes nationwide?” The agent referred to the FBI's main computer file for the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program.
“ VICAP and every other program we have is in full function on the question. We didn't stop at nationwide. We went worldwide. If this guy has struck before, using the same methods, we will learn about it-when and where. We're praying, of course, that there haven't been any such previous cases sitting in cold case files somewhere out there, but that's why all of you here and on linkups have been notified. Look at your cold cases for any that have not been CAPed. Who knows, it could uncover a lead.”
“ One thing we do know about the killer,” Jessica added from her seat, “he's thorough and competent with his tools.”
“ Can you elaborate on that, Dr. Coran?” asked Quinton. “In both cases, he has lost or left only minuscule brain tissue from his victims. He wants it-his prize-intact, brain stem and all,” Jessica replied. “However, as for leaving anything of himself, sorry. He's crafty and neat about what he brings with him and what he takes away.”
“ As neat as a surgeon, you mean?”
“ We don't want to lock down on that just yet, but yes, he could be a medical professional,” said J.T. “If not, he may have some medical training. Certainly, his tools would suggest that.”
“ It's a fairly educated assumption,” added Santiva, “given his precision with the tools, and it fits with what little we have on the offender.”
Jessica said, “Unfortunately, there've always been a lot of Jack-the-Rippers among the medical profession. Equally unfortunate, we have only one possible witness, and her testimony is vague at best. A Viki Rollins claims to have seen a man force a woman into a van at gunpoint in Richmond. No crime scenes exist, as we suspect he's using a van. So no clues other than those left on the victim-meaning what he did to her, I'm afraid. There is no fingerprint evidence, no DNA, no complete profile of the lunatic monster, so…”
“ We have a psych team on the case as we speak,” Santiva assured his audience.
Jessica added, “We suspect he's a white male in his mid thirties-and we're pretty much agreed that this doesn't look like the work of an erratic kill-spree murderer, due to his behavior here, just methodical as hell. He will blend in as if invisible, just a normal-looking guy. No maniac eyes or Neanderthal brow. More like the neighbor next door.”
“ Will he be wearing suspenders?” asked Quinton from the floor.
Everyone laughed at this. “Most assuredly, Quint,” said Santiva.
J.T. added, “At the moment, profiling of the victims may be our best bet, although we're still compiling more on the young women each day.”
Jessica agreed with J.T.'s assessment. “Our victim profile that's coming around to you in flyer form has obvious gaps. After reading it, if anyone finds any associations or patterns and similarities between the victims, please let us hear from you. We've pretty much used up all the information forwarded thus far on the young women.”
Agents seeing the victim profile began to consult one another and a general clamor, fueled by concern, demonstrated their discomfort. The victim profile fit nearly every young adult female in the country, down to their favorite rock groups-Outta Sink, Buglebeee Blow and Rag Bushy. This only punctuated the youth of the victims.
“ Admittedly, it isn't much,” said Santiva, getting the doctors off the hook, “but at the moment, it's all we have. As noted, the killer is mobile-working out of a dark blue or black van, according to information gleaned from a near-abduction case in Fayetteville, North Carolina.”
“ With victim one in Richmond, two in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, and a possible later attempt in Fayetteville, North Carolina,” said Jessica. “This indicates that he has been roughly on a southerly course down the length of 1-95.”
“ Another 1-95 killer with a new twist?” asked Quinton from the floor.
“ After Fayetteville we can only assume he's on a southerly course-perhaps toward Georgia, possibly Florida,” replied Jessica. “If he stays his course.”
“ The dates of discovery bear this out.” Santiva looked beyond the audience again and called out, “Henrietta, the map.” Lights went out and a map of the southeast states appeared, marked at the two cities where the victims had died. “If not Georgia or Florida, he's likely to show up in Tennessee, going southwest from Winston-Salem instead of straight down 1-95 as predicted.”
Jessica added, “This… this brain-snatching bastard made his first kill within shouting distance of us, gentlemen, ladies, which means one of two things: He is either oblivious to us, or he is spitting in our faces.”
An undertow of anger erupted from the crowd, a low growl of collective derision.
“ What's this ghoul really doing with their brains?” asked one agent near the front.
“ Who knows, Birch?” replied Santiva. “Maybe he's making love to them, maybe he's freezing them for laboratory study, maybe the creep thinks they make good doorstops the way you use books, Birch. Who knows?”
This brought on some much-needed laughter.
“ Maybe he's doing like that guy in that old black-and-white sci-fi movie, the one where the doctor puts human brains into animals, chickens and goats and such,” said Agent Quinton.
More laughter followed.
“ Weren't there some Nazi war crimes involving brain removal and study?” asked a female agent midway back. “I seem to recall reading about it.”